


the morning meal

by ernyx



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: (it doesn't get made), (it goes cold), Breakfast, Coffee, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ernyx/pseuds/ernyx
Summary: Natasha doesn’t turn to greet him yet, though she’s undoubtedly heard him enter the room. She’s tossing the last ingredients onto the pan, flipping the omelette deftly. It’ll need a minute and then she’ll be done, free to wrap her arms around Matt and kiss him good morning.He notices all of this, but his brain fizzles to a halt, disregarding all of that because... Natasha is wearing nothing but a lacy apron. Seriously?
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 7





	the morning meal

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from tumblr / semi-prompted by heroicpaths: breakfast, groping/distracting from work  
> it's weird for me to write so much smut but it's been Happening On The Blog so we're tucking a few of our faves here as well.

He rises to the sound of omelettes being made, the rhythmic quick chop of a knife, the sizzle of the pan with butter and onions. It’s accompanied by the faint bubbling of water for tea or coffee. The smell of caramelization drifts into the bedroom, beckoning him out, and he stretches, still a little sore from the activities of the night before. 

He _could_ mean the vigilante work, but he **doesn’t**. Practically every inch of skin that’s not hidden from view by his boxers is covered in bite marks. Well, what’s hidden is _too_. He’s not complaining.

Natasha doesn’t turn to greet him yet, though she’s undoubtedly heard him enter the room. She’s tossing the last ingredients onto the pan, flipping the omelette deftly. It’ll need a minute and then she’ll be done, free to wrap her arms around Matt and kiss him good morning. 

He notices all of this, but his brain fizzles to a halt, disregarding all of that because... Natasha is wearing nothing but a lacy apron. _**Seriously**?_

The pan has just been moved off the heat when he comes up behind her. Skin meets skin, and Nat grins, looking back at him. “Good morning to you too,” she says, stealing a kiss. “Breakfast is just about ready.” 

“I’ll say it is,” he replies, lips twitching up as he kisses down her exposed back. “Is it my birthday? Did I **forget** something?” 

“ _Complaining_ , Matty mine?”  
“ _Hardly_ , Red. But what, just in the mood?”  
“Never left it, apparently.” 

He grabs her, pulling her around to face him and she lets him kiss her breathless. There’s a squirming sensation building in her belly already, somewhere between butterflies and that hungry, clawing _want_ that rises up in her and wants to claim him. When he hoists her up, she readily hops onto him, legs wrapped securely around his hips. 

They make it as far as the living room couch, where Matt drops Natasha unceremoniously to a ‘ _hey now!_ ’ and shucks out of his boxers. She stretches back, enjoying the view. It’s up to him if she keeps the apron on or takes it off, it’s not like it does anything for _her_. She expects hands on her person, shifting fabric out of the way to get access to her breasts, her ass, whatever it is that Matt’s feeling, so it’s only right that she has to contain a squeak when he dives between her legs and attacks her with his mouth. 

Holy **fuck**. 

He luxuriates in the taste of her, the way that she twists under his deft tongue, and she can barely contain her gasps and moans. After a little while, she stops trying altogether. When he drives his cock into her at long last (apron finally discarded), she all but shouts her pleasure, uncharacteristically vocal and unrepentantly needy. They clutch at each other, all lips and teeth and hands, and Natasha goes over the edge first, whispering his name like a mantra. 

The clench of her is soon too much, and he follows, collapsing on top of her. She takes the weight with a grunt, but pets his hair fondly. 

“You know,” she says after a long moment, after Matt has pulled out, “the omelette’s probably cold by now.” 

He turns his face to her, incredulously. “ _Priorities,_ Tasha!”

“So... round two in the shower?” 

He needs absolutely no convincing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are loved as always.


End file.
